Turbulence
by TitansRule
Summary: On the 2 year anniversary of their partnership, Don and Jess have a possible hijacking to deal with. Story #47 in my 'Kindred Spirits' series.


**Disclaimer: I don't own CSI: NY.  
****Series: 'Kindred Spirits'.  
****Spoilers: **_**Turbulence**_** – everything in bold was dialogue in the episode; I didn't write it.**

* * *

Turbulence

The whole precinct was on edge and had been since Flack's phone had rung. Don Flack was, by no means, the most laid-back cop on the force, but his reaction (a loudly exclaimed 'shit!') still wasn't common.

The rest of the conversation was too quiet for even Jess to hear, but everyone waited on tenterhooks to find out what had happened.

When Don hung up, he didn't explain, but stood up silently, giving Jess a look she understood in a second; she waited a few seconds, before rising and following him out of the precinct.

Outside, Don was leaning against his car, waiting for her.

"What's happened?" Jess asked.

"Well, you know Mac's supposed to be testifying in Washington?" Don responded, opening the car door for her and jogging round to the driver's side. "There's a dead body on the plane; fake air marshal with a legit badge, no ID and an empty holster."

"Shit!" Jess whispered. "Where's the gun?"

"Don't know." Don told her grimly. "Badge belongs to a Roger Stockwell; never checked in with the field office this morning. Danny's gonna meet us at the hotel."

"Us?" Jess repeated.

Don sighed. "I know your shift finishes in five minutes, Jess, but I don't know how big this thing is; I …" He trailed off, not entirely sure what he meant or how to explain it.

Luckily, Jess understood anyway and nodded. "You know I've got your back, Don."

Don reached over and squeezed her hand. "Yeah, I know. You know what today is, right?"

Jess frowned. "November 10th?"

"Exactly two years since we became partners." Don explained with a grin.

Jess chuckled, realising that he was right. "So it is. You remember the exact date?"

"How could I forget?" Don asked. "Aside from anything else, you're the only person who's managed to put up with me on a regular basis for this long."

"What about Danny?" Jess asked, trying not to laugh.

"He's mental anyway, Jess." Don pointed out. "You don't want to judge things like that by him."

Jess just laughed.

When they reached the hotel, Danny didn't look at all surprised to see her, just nodded a greeting to them as the manager led them up to the hotel room.

Don knocked on the door. "**Roger Stockwell, NYPD.**"

There was no response and Jess's hand automatically rested on her weapon.

Don glanced at them and knocked again. "**Mr. Stockwell, we need to talk to you, sir.**"

Again there was no response and he stepped back, telling the manager to open the door. It swung open and the three moved forwards to peer into the darkness. Don pulled out a penlight and turned it on; as the thin beam of light travelled over the floor, it landed on …

"**There's our air marshal.**" Don murmured.

"**Looks like he checked out early.**" Danny commented half-heartedly.

"I'll call it in." Jess said quietly, receiving a small nod in return. Stockwell may not have been a cop, but he was still one of them.

* * *

"**This guy's been beaten pretty good.**" Danny stated as Jess returned from her canvas, ducking under the crime scene tape. The lights were on now and she could see that the cause of death was probably the gunshot wound in his head. "**Bruising on his face,**" he continued, "**defensive bruising on his arm.**"

Don was examining the open door. "**There's no signs of forced entry, but it does look like he put up one hell of a fight.**"

Danny frowned. "**Since when do housekeepers use duct tape?**" He asked, picking up a roll from the floor.

"**I'm guessing,**" Don crouched down beside the nightstand and rose holding a gun, "**since they started packing Desert Eagle .50s.**"

"**Wow.**" Jess winced. "**That cannon packs quite a punch. Only there were no reports of gunshots from hotel guests or employees.**"

Danny raised an eyebrow. "**So how does a highly trained and armed air marshal take one between the eyes and nobody hears anything?**" He didn't get a response, nor had he been expecting one, so he continued examining the body. "**Got something in his head wound.**"

"**You mean, besides the large calibre bullet?**" Don asked wryly.

Jess rolled her eyes and crouched down to get a better look. "**White fibres?**"

"**Looks like more over here.**" Don pointed, apparently now being serious.

Danny leaned down and shone his pen light under the bed. "**Boom. What have we got here?**" He reached in and pulled out a stuffed panda holding a cupcake. "**Can I get a witness?**"

"**Well, hello there.**" Don grinned.

"**Bullet hold and powder burns.**" Danny frowned.

"**That might be why nobody heard anything.**" Jess commented. "**An improvised silencer.**"

"**There's some more trace on here too.**" Danny murmured, plucking a hair off.

"**Our killer's?**" Don asked, perking up; if they had DNA …

"**Variegated colour and the coarseness suggests it's not human.**" Danny sighed. "**And it doesn't appear to be from the panda.**"

"**Maybe the bear had a friend.**" Don suggested.

Danny turned the bear around and stared at it. "**This could also be how the killer got into the room.**"

"How so?" Jess asked.

Danny held it up so they could see the words printed on the cupcake. "**Happy birthday.**"

* * *

"How'd it go at the nightclub?" Jess asked over the noise of the traffic.

"Davies insists he doesn't run with Greenway anymore." Don answered, handing her a hot dog. "Says he came by to borrow the jacket; he wanted nothing to do with it …"

"Of course not." Jess rolled her eyes, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

Don sighed. "Thing is, Jess, I think this guy's on the level. He seemed genuinely shocked that the gun wasn't in his desk where he left it."

"So this guy's actually trying to go legit?" Jess summarised.

Don nodded. "I've got him to sign a CI agreement."

"Nice." Jess smirked. "You think he'll play ball?"

"I think he's more willing than he wants to let on." Don responded. His phone beeped and he glanced down at the screen. He grinned and pressed a few buttons, before replacing his phone. "He might not come to us with anything, but we go to him and I think it'll be golden."

"Who was the text from?" Jess asked curiously.

Don didn't answer, taking her arm and steering her into the park, out of the crowds of people. "You remember Bobby Renton?" He asked finally.

Jess frowned. "Your witness from the Foley case? He's in Witness Protection, right?"

"Right." Don confirmed. "That was his girlfriend. I gave her my number, so I could pass on baby news to the FBI who could get it to Bobby."

Jess smiled.

"What?" Don prompted, seeing her face.

"I'm just thinking that most detectives wouldn't have given that a second thought." Jess commented. "They would've just shipped him into protective custody and left it at that."

"What's your point?" Don asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Jess shrugged. "Just thinking how lucky I am to have you as a partner." She put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. "You're a good man, Don."

Don gave her a smile that would have caused a lesser woman to melt into a puddle of blushes and giggles at his feet, and caused even her cheeks to stain with a pink tinge. "You want to do something tonight?"

"If we're off-shift." Jess reminded him as they started walking again. "And don't we always?"

"I mean, properly." Don elaborated. "Go out to dinner or something."

Jess stole a glance at him. "Are you asking me out, Detective?"

He wanted to say yes, the place where her lips had touched him still burning in a way that made him certain everyone could see them. He wanted to be able to pull her close, to kiss her properly.

But his mind, his treacherous logic, told him he couldn't. Even in the last few minutes, six guys had eyed her up as they passed, and he was willing to bet that most of _them_ weren't commitment-phobic.

In his heart, he knew Jess deserved better, someone who wasn't as dedicated to their job, who could put her first.

"No." He answered. "I just figured … you know, since we've been partners for two years …"

"Sure." Jess agreed. "Where do you wanna go?"

"Well, there's this great place near my apartment that does the best pasta." Don told her.

"Better than your lasagne?" Jess teased.

Don laughed. "It's not _that_ good."

* * *

Amazingly, it was that evening that they ended up having dinner, the case having been wrapped up far quicker than anyone, least of all them, had anticipated.

The setting was far more intimate than was usual, not so much to be uncomfortable, but enough so that anyone who walked in would assume they were a couple.

As such, they were seated as far from the door as possible, in a small booth, a bowl of pasta between them that was, as Don had said, very, very good.

"So, let me get this straight," said Jess, who had missed the resolution of the case, "Nina the flight attendant was Anton Greenway's girlfriend and agreed to help him escape, only to realise he'd killed the real air marshal and was planning on hijacking the plane."

"Right." Don confirmed when she paused.

"So she stabbed him with her badge, but, rather than emerging a hero, decided to keep the cash." Jess shook her head. "Didn't she realise that she'd probably have gotten just as much money after killing the guy?"

Don raised an eyebrow. "What; she a hit-woman now?"

"No, but if no one offered her a reward, she could've sold her story for at least a million." Jess explained. "You know what the media's like. Dunbrook would've run with it."

"Well, that's the choice these people make, isn't it?" Don sighed. "Always think they can do one better."

"I think everyone in the world's thought that at least once." Jess pointed out. "Even about minor things."

"Example?" Don prompted.

"Well, like when we're at your apartment, but call the pizza place nearer mine, even though we know it'll take longer, because the pizza's better." Jess complied.

Don pulled a face. "That barely works. But I see your point. Do you think you can do one better right now?"

"With the pasta or the company?" Jess asked lightly.

"Either." Don said with a wry smile.

"Well, I still say it's not as good as your lasagne." Jess admitted. "But I don't think the company could get any better." She watched in fascination as his cheeks turned red. "I think this is only the second time I've seen you blush and it was because of me both times. Should I be flattered?"

Don chuckled. "Honestly, Jess, I think you're the only person who's _ever_ made me blush. So, yeah, you should be."

"If it makes you feel better, you have an annoying ability to make me blush as well." Jess confessed.

"It's not an ability." Don smirked. "I just go out of my way to see if I can make you blush."

"Why?" Jess asked, bewildered.

"Because you manage to maintain this kind of stone exterior most of the time." Don told her, quietly. "You never let anything get to you. And I think I could feel quite threatened by you. Every time you blush, it reminds me that you're as human as I am. That," his smirk grew again, "and it's one of the only remotely 'girly' things I've ever seen you do."

Jess rolled her eyes, swatting his arm. "That was almost sweet, until that last part. One of?"

Don grinned. "You sing along with the radio."

Jess burst out laughing. "You're using _that_ as an example? Don, you do that."

"Oh yeah." Don grimaced. "You love chick flicks."

"I love a happy ending." Jess conceded. "Probably because we don't see many of those. You can't deny you do as well. And I don't dissolve into tears at the end."

"True." Don lapsed into thought for a few minutes. "I'll think of something."

"Face it, Don; there's nothing remotely feminine about me." Jess stated.

Don raised an eyebrow. "I didn't say 'feminine', Jess; I said 'girly'. There's a difference."

"Oh?" Jess raised an eyebrow right back. "What's that then?"

"You." Don said simply. "Admittedly you are the least _girly_ woman I've met, but lack of giggling and general ditziness doesn't make you any less feminine. I've met non-feminine women; you're _not _one of them."

Jess smiled, trying not to let him know how much his words affected her.

When they'd finished and fought over the bill – he insisted on paying – they left together, bickering playfully.

"Jess, there's no way." Don insisted.

"Please, have you seen the way they look at each other?" Jess sniggered. "It's like eye sex when they think no one's watching."

"They're too close." Don argued. "Plus she knew Claire; she'd feel too awkward."

"Mr. It-Took-Me-Six-Months-To-Dump-My-Girlfriend is an expert in women psychology now?" Jess teased.

"That had nothing to do with psychology." Don muttered. "She was just clingy."

"No, my niece after a nightmare is clingy." Jess disagreed. "She was like elastic."

Don chuckled as he stopped at the door, standing back to let an elderly couple in before they left.

"Thank you." The woman said, clutching her husband's arm. "It's so nice to see a polite young man these days; you're a lucky girl." Her last comment was directed at Jess, who just smiled, used to dealing with elderly people on the job.

"Come on, Ethel." Her husband prompted, shooting the two detectives an apologetic look.

"I'm just saying they look good together." 'Ethel' continued, oblivious to her husband leading her further into the restaurant. "Remind me of us when we were young."

"You didn't tell her we weren't a couple." Don commented when they were outside in the cool air.

"She wouldn't have believed us." Jess reminded him, shivering slightly. "Besides, I am a lucky girl," she added as Don slipped his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders, "and we _do_ look good together."

"That's only because everyone's distracted by your stunning looks and don't notice me." Don joked.

"Not feeling self-conscious, are we, Detective?" Jess shot back. "Because there's a reason why half the women in New York throw themselves at your feet."

"Trust me, Jess; it's not just me." Don said. "That's why I step over them."

Jess laughed, very aware of his hand on her lower back, almost possessively. Unlike the last time a man had done that – it seemed like years, rather than months, that she and Don stood outside that restaurant while he all but threatened her date – his touch was comforting rather than threatening, natural rather than an intrusion.

"Would you rather I told them we weren't together?" Jess asked curiously.

"No." Don answered shortly, but didn't elaborate. Before she could ask, he changed the subject back to Mac and Stella and whether they were together or not.

She never did ask why that night.

She wasn't sure she wanted to know.

**

* * *

AN: Some of you may have picked up some extra foreshadowing; virtual brownies if you did, but PM me please, so there aren't any spoilers in the reviews.**


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